


Minor Illusion

by leomundstinyhut



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (Or So They're Pretending), Anal Sex, Except I Accidentally Made It About Feelings, Friends With Benefits, Hand Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, They're All Mentioned But Well., Unresolved Emotional Tension, WidoFjord Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 14:26:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leomundstinyhut/pseuds/leomundstinyhut
Summary: Fjord clears his throat. “This a bad time, Widogast?”Caleb continues reading, but his lips curl into a playful smile. “Hmm… I was thinking about having a nice night in, maybe researching for our mission in the next couple days.” Now he flicks his eyes up, gleaming in the lowlit light of his room. “Did you need something?”Fjord can tell he’s being played with, so leans back against the door, folding his arms and smirking. “Me? Nah, nah. Just thought maybe you might with the way you were practically in my lap earlier.”The blue eyes crinkle further at the corners. “Hmm. You are very attractive when you’re strategizing a coup against multiple government agencies.”-----Prompt Fill for Widofjord Week 2019 - Insecurity/Intimacy





	Minor Illusion

**Author's Note:**

> *walks into Widofjord Week 4 days late* Hey what's up I'm Louie, I'm 24, and I never fucking learned how to write.
> 
> I'm only gonna do two fics for this week bc obviously I have a problem with TIMING and for some reason I chose to do this one even though I never write smut. But it's the time... to be brave... bc I think even if these two eventually got together romantically they'd still have a lot to work out... and... I have a lot of feelings about it.
> 
> IT PROBABLY WON'T ACTUALLY BE HOT SMUT BUT DAMN IF IT'S NOT THOUGHTFUL
> 
> Hope you enjoy 8.7k of two dudes who are fucking but like, emotionally, and also not acknowledging that [gestures]

Caleb just had to look at him sometimes.

Fjord can be totally fine, relaxed and thinking about nothing important, and then he glances Caleb’s way and finds those eyes already on him. And Caleb can crinkle a smile at him, look back down at his book that’s obscuring half his face, and Fjord’s pulse is already thrumming.

Is it particularly classy or romantic of him to be so immediately hot and ready to go? Probably not.

But Caleb was all about subtlety, and at this embarrassingly early point, Fjord was as attuned to those subtleties as he thinks is possible.

Fingers skating up the spine of a spellbook, so innocent in the eye of anyone else, are enough to make Fjord sit up from wherever he’s lounging. A loosening of the scarf around the wizard’s neck had Fjord fantasizing about pulling the rest of his clothes off.

Today, they’re discussing the merits of intercepting a missive from the Bright Queen to one of her military commanders out near the border of the Empire. All things considered, he should definitely be paying attention.

Beau reaches across the map table and taps a tiny dot that constitutes the city the commander is in: Borahkos. “This place looks small on the map, but that could either mean small town with civilians or big fort full of soldiers.”

Caleb leans on his hands across from her, frowning thoughtfully. _“Ja,_ neither is ideal. A town would be easy enough to slip into, but if it is a fort we are definitely going to need to stop the messenger before they reach the area.” He turns his look on Fjord, eyebrows drawn low. “You say this is taking place two days from now?”

Fjord nods. “Far as we know.”

“Hm.” Caleb reaches up to bite at his thumbnail, still frowning, and slowly circles the table to end up on Fjord’s other side. Despite himself, Fjord straightens up and shifts closer, ignoring the unimpressed look Nott shoots him across the map. “It looks like there’s no direct path. Is it possible they’re going to be using magical transport?”

“That’s _always_ possible, Mr. Wizard,” Beau deadpans, and Caleb gives her a flat look before scrubbing his face with his hands.

“We know they got the teleportation circles,” Fjord adds, leaning closer to the map to point to Rosohna’s name. His chest budges up against Caleb’s shoulder. Neither of them move away. “But the way Essek was talking, it was gonna be a manual move. Maybe BQ’s thinkin’ there’s gonna be an ambush on the other side of the circle? Way things sound, Borahkos is on the rocks. Haven’t heard from ‘em in a couple weeks. Safer to make the trip and be able to scope the place out from a distance.”

Caleb sighs softly and leans just slightly back into Fjord. Behind them, Fjord rests a hand on the small of Caleb’s back, out of view of the rest of their compatriots, and scritches his nails in a slow circle there. Admirably, Caleb’s focus doesn’t visibly falter the way Fjord’s pretty certain his own has begun to. “There is not much we can do until we have more information. We aren’t even sure if this missive is all that important, _ja?_ Perhaps we should focus more on learning about who it’s going to.” He sighs, reaching back to rub at his neck, all the signs of someone that was tired and winding down for the night.

Then bends just a little more over the table, pressing his hips back into Fjord’s palm.

Fjord’s eyes stick where they are on the map, and he feels his mind go blank as his blood rushes south.

Sometimes Caleb is subtle. Other times, maybe not so much.

It’s almost sad, how easy Fjord is at this point. It _would_ be sad if Caleb wasn’t absolutely doing it on purpose. Fjord digs his claws into the fabric at Caleb’s back, watches the way Caleb’s mouth twitches almost imperceptibly. 

_Asshole._ He wishes it didn’t come across so fond.

The rest of the meeting passes in relative peace, with the general consensus being that they’d do more research in the morning. Caduceus and Jester peace out first, the ones least interested in strategizing and more interested in just making sure everyone stayed walking throughout the actual execution. Caleb goes next, bidding them all a goodnight and tugging on Fjord’s pinky as he passes by, in a move so weirdly affectionate Fjord goes kinda mushy looking after him.

Fjord finds an excuse soon afterward, sidestepping the stares from both Beau and Nott as best he can and directing his “‘Night” Yasha’s way.

Nott’s retching noise is harder to ignore, but he manages, more focused on scrambling his way downstairs to Caleb’s room before anyone can follow after him.

He and Caleb aren’t exactly keeping things secret, but it’s still not something they’ve discussed openly with the group, either. Fjord isn’t keen on getting cornered into talking about it, especially by either of the women left behind in the war room.

He makes his way to Caleb’s room with all the stealth he can manage. It’s not a lot.

Still, he finds his way to the door easily enough. He presses his palm to the smooth wood, exhales quietly. _“Endloses Wissen,_ ” he murmurs stiltedly against the wood, and smiles with satisfaction when it opens for him easily. Caleb and his complicated language.

He slips inside, finding Caleb already dressed down, sitting on his bed with a tome open in his lap. He doesn’t look up for a moment, squinting at the text.

Fjord clears his throat. “This a bad time, Widogast?”

Caleb continues reading, but his lips curl into a playful smile. “Hmm… I was thinking about having a nice night in, maybe researching for our mission in the next couple days.” Now he flicks his eyes up, gleaming in the lowlit light of his room. “Did you need something?”

Fjord can tell he’s being played with, so leans back against the door, folding his arms and smirking. “Me? Nah, nah. Just thought maybe _you_ might with the way you were practically in my lap earlier.”

The blue eyes crinkle further at the corners. “Hmm. You are very attractive when you’re strategizing a coup against multiple government agencies.”

Fjord’s smirk grows into a genuine chuckle, and he pushes off the door, moving closer. He leans against the frame of Caleb’s bed instead, dropping his voice an octave. “Ooh, careful. You’re gonna get me all worked up with that talk, hot stuff.”

He almost stumbles over the petname — he’s never really used them in this back-and-forth, and he’s _mostly_ joking about it — but Caleb’s answering snicker is music. He’s a lot more prone to laughter when he’s alone. Alone with Fjord.

The wizard stands up, moving to meet him, all white and red in the candelight from Caleb’s desk.

“You know how rebellion gets me all bothered, Fjord.”

“Keep up the dirty talk,” he rumbles back.

Caleb laughs softly as Fjord finally gets within touching distance, and the teasing softens into fondness as easy as honey in tea.

He reaches to skate his palms up Fjord’s shoulders, up, up, to cradle his neck, warm and comforting and certain. _“Hallo,”_ he says.

Fjord could shake him with how thoughtlessly cute he looks; the wrinkle of his nose as he glows a small smile at him, the sparkle in his eyes, the pink curling across his cheeks beneath the spotty freckles he’s developed.

If anyone had told him a year ago he’d be calling the dangerous, powerful, sneaky, dirt-covered wizard in their company _cute,_ he’d have laughed in their face. Now, it seems impossible he’d missed it for so long.

Maybe he was biased. Caleb strokes his thumbs against Fjord’s jawline, all gentleness, and Fjord melts in his embrace.

“Hey,” Fjord murmurs back. Caleb’s smile broadens.

“Hi,” says Caleb, lacing his arms closer around Fjord’s neck, coincidentally pulling him closer in the process.

Fjord feels a smile tugging his own mouth, too, as he takes the hint and leans to press his nose up against the other man’s. “Hi, Caleb.”

 _“Guten Abend”_ is what Caleb is halfway through responding with before Fjord snickers and closes the space between them. He lifts a hand to Caleb’s chin and tups him up, and after that Caleb doesn’t really need the encouragement, lacing his long fingers in Fjord’s hair and humming as he kisses Fjord dizzy.

Caleb has a way with his hands. Even though they’re kissing, Fjord is hyperaware of the way nails scritch their way down the back of his scalp, down along his nape and along his wide shoulders— a favored spot of Caleb’s, he’s noticed. He rumbles, tilting his head to kiss him again, slip him some tongue, and the hands skitter down his back in response. They feel like warm brands even over his clothes, drawing him constantly closer, closer, until Caleb is pressed against the wall of his bedroom with Fjord looming over him. 

Fjord braces himself against the new support with one hand, then bends and licks at the inside of Caleb’s teeth until he’s squirming. Caleb takes soft breaths in the brief spanses Fjord gives him, until one palm presses against Fjord’s spine, bows him down, and the wizard is returning the favor, rubbing his open mouth against the small, dull tusks under Fjord’s lip. He can feel it when Caleb smiles, deepens the kiss further, pays deliberate attention to his tusks, groans when they catch on his mouth. Jelly fills Fjord’s knees at the tenderness, at how obvious it was that Caleb actually liked them. 

Heat blooms, tight and tentacle-like, from Fjord’s gut outward, pulling at him from the inside.

Hands, hands. Clever wizard hands deftly undoing the remaining armor pieces from Fjord’s body like he’s done it a hundred times before.

Fjord grins and bends to lave his tongue under Caleb’s ear. “When’d you get so good at undressin’ me?” he mumbles.

A hand cradles the back of his head as they both catch their breath, and Fjord obediently keeps his place, sucking a kiss into the wired neck under his mouth. He can’t see Caleb’s face, but he can hear the wry smirk anyway. “Ah— I had a lot of practice in my imagination. Maybe I paid st-strictly more attention than necessary to where your armor came apart.”

Fjord gasps playfully, trying for scandalized. “Imagination? How long’s this been going on, Widogast?” This thing between them is still so new; there’s still a lot that’s constantly dancing on the back of Fjord’s mind, and the question of _how long_ is definitely one of them.

Caleb’s other hand picks off the remaining leather tie holding Fjord’s breastplate on, and catches it to set it off somewhere near his feet. “Oh, long enough to be embarrassing, I assure you.” 

Of course he’d be vague. A laugh is pressed into Caleb’s throat. “Since we got to Xhorhas?”

“Mmh,” Caleb purrs, and untucks the plain white shirt Fjord is wearing, slipping his firebrand fingers onto the small of Fjord’s back. Sparks run up his spine, make Fjord shiver where he’s debating sucking a mark onto Caleb’s shoulder. “Longer.”

“The ship? Was it the outfit?”

“You are going to be guessing for some time,” Caleb mumbles, and his hands are pushing Fjord’s shirt up his stomach now, which is interesting and fun and distracting. “I would much rather just actually undress you, _schatz.”_

Fjord can agree with that. “... So before the ship then.”

“You’re insufferable,” Caleb huffs, and tugs the shirt up over Fjord’s face, forcing him to step back and lift his arms so it can be pulled off of him.

Caleb tosses the shirt away and then places his hands on Fjord’s chest, spreading his long fingers out over the speckly skin. Fjord feels warmth begin to wash into his cheeks as Caleb drags his eyes from Fjord’s face to look deliberately and intently at where he’s putting his hands. He sees Caleb’s pupils blow like ink on a page as he slowly drags his palms down Fjord’s chest, over his collarbones and along his ribs. _“Herrlich,”_ he hums, slotting his thumbs underneath the swell of Fjord’s pectorals before looking up at him through his eyelashes. “You are a vision.”

The blush is definitely turning him that weird mottled brown color along his face, Fjord is sure of it. “Caleb,” he begins, never sure how to react in the face of open admiration in the privacy of one-on-one, but Caleb doesn’t let him bat the compliment away, instead leaning in and pressing his mouth to Fjord’s throat. _“Caleb.”_

One of Caleb’s hands reaches and cradles the back of Fjord’s head, skimming along the fuzz he’s let accumulate there, gently tipping it into his palm so he can press his mouth to the tender skin under Fjord’s jaw. Fjord swallows helplessly, closing his eyes and letting his own hands latch onto Caleb’s waist in an attempt to keep himself steady. Caleb’s canines graze his pulse point and he feels more than hears himself groan, feels Caleb’s lips purse in a smile against his skin.

They’ve only done this part — the actual _sex_ , he forces his nervous mind to say — three or four times, using hands and rubbing off and once, this last time, their mouths. It’s still so new, so hot to the touch, but Fjord still doesn’t think he’ll ever be completely used to how Caleb won’t let him duck behind anything. He peels back the clothing and he peels back Fjord’s little barriers and he sinks his teeth into the soft underbelly beneath them, and Fjord goes pliable as the paper Caleb works with.

It’s enough that when Caleb gently nudges him backward toward the bed, he doesn’t even hesitate, barely catching himself as he half-stumbles over his boots. Caleb pulls away from his throat to laugh a little, and Fjord laughs, too, sitting down on the edge of the bed and reaching to undo his complicated belt.

Caleb watches him do it as he strips his own jacket off. Fjord gets halfway through before shooting him a smirk.

“Are you memorizing?”

“That belt is ridiculous,” Caleb replies, his eyes gleaming as he unwinds the scarf from around his neck. “Why does it have so many buckles and straps? Wouldn’t one buckle keep it up?”

Fjord wiggles his eyebrows, more comfortable in their banter. “It wouldn’t look as good if it didn’t look difficult to take off.”

Caleb’s nose wrinkles. “Hmm… fair enough. Let me memorize.”

Fjord chuckles and continues undressing himself with practiced movements, eventually removing the belt and tossing it to the side, bending to undo his boots, next. He can hear Caleb shuffling across from him, and peeks up, trying to be inconspicuous. It doesn’t stop him from getting stuck on his second boot when Caleb reaches up behind himself and shucks his shirt in a fluid movement.

He forgets, sometimes, that as reticent and softspoken as Caleb seems, he can do so much with just one little motion. One yank of fabric and Fjord finds himself just as mesmerized as when Caleb pulled out a new spell.

Maybe that was just his sex brain talking. He doesn’t really think so, though.

Caleb spies him looking. He cocks an eyebrow, letting the shirt slide from his fingers and hit the floor with a dull _thump._ Something about the way he’s unsmiling, serious, his loosening hair catching on his scruff, makes Fjord’s gut go hot and hungry.

He continues undressing in earnest, yanking off his second boot and chucking it to the foot of the bed. He lifts his hips to shimmy his pants off, using the sides of his hands to push them down his calves and onto the floor, and is left in just his smalls when Caleb climbs into his lap without preamble.

“Oh,” says Fjord, settling his hands on Caleb’s slender waist. Caleb sinks comfortably into his seat, laying his hands on Fjord’s neck before sliding them down to his shoulders, all so slow, so indulgent. Fjord takes the time to appreciate the view since Caleb clearly is, letting his eyes pull from Caleb’s focused face to the long planes of freckled white skin presented before him.

Caleb is a wizard; he didn’t need to have a lot of musculature to be a fucking powerhouse. Fjord selfishly likes that about him, liked that he was slender and easy to pick up; it made him feel good, strong, to actually be able to scoop Caleb up into his arms.

Still, there’s some definition in their resident redhead’s chest, his biceps, his back, from carrying those spellbooks (and Frumpkin, now that Fjord amusedly thinks about it) around on his shoulders. He’s fuzzy in a way Fjord isn’t, long in all the places Fjord is wide. Fjord can’t help but be fascinated with the differences in their bodies. His own skin is carved through in scars from blades and misaimed crossbow bolts; Caleb has burns and smears and the little cuts all along his forearms. Fjord turns his head to press a kiss at the inside of his wrist as he looks his friend over, drags his eyes down his sternum to the tent in his underthings.

His companion is going pink under his skin, looking almost candy-sweet with the brightness, and Fjord wants to taste that heat.

It’s tempting to pull Caleb off his lap and lay him down on the bed, strip him down and taste him up one side and down the other. But the hazy-hot way Caleb is staring when he looks up again says the wizard’s brain is plotting something, and far be it from Fjord to interfere with that.

Caleb usually had great ideas. Fjord was more than happy to follow along.

He drags his recently-blunted claws down the wiry red chest hair between his pecs, feels the tug against his fingers, before spreading his hand out and noting how big it looks against Caleb’s flat stomach. Caleb arches neatly under his touch, rising up onto his knees to push his body into it, push his hips forward to brush Fjord’s stomach. Fjord can feel his dick through the fabric, warm, hard, and feels that fire in his blood roar to life again. The breath feels kicked out of him, looking back up into Caleb’s face to see his mouth parted just slightly, his pupils much bigger now.

“Love your hands, Fjord,” Caleb breathes, and Fjord feels arousal burn through him so hot it almost scalds. His name sounds like a prayer when Caleb says it like that; Caleb never lets him forget he knows exactly who he’s in bed with, and something about that feels like a brand against the inside of his eyelids.

“Where do you want them?” he murmurs back, emboldened, and leans in to press his mouth to Caleb’s chest. He bites a blue mark where it lands, and Caleb’s fingers twist into his hair, only letting him stay for a moment before dragging his mouth back up.

“Everywhere,” Caleb says back, softly, blunt as ever. He leans in to kiss him again, slow and warm and wet. Fjord rumbles, pressing into it, and smooths both his hands up Caleb’s sides, thrilling when Caleb heaves a stuttered breath into his mouth.

Pressing his hands up and down Caleb’s skin has him beginning to rock in Fjord’s lap, spine arching to follow the movements of Fjord’s palms. Fjord can feel his own breath beginning to speed up as he watches the man’s body roll under his ministrations. His cock swells under Caleb as the wizard grinds against Fjord’s stomach, head tipped back, showing off all that throat. Fjord is kind of helpless to do anything but lean up and start sucking bruises into it.

He gets about three in before Caleb’s fingers in his hair suddenly tighten, and he stops rocking. Fjord pauses, peering up at the other man, and Caleb looks back down at him for a moment before putting a hand on Fjord’s chest. _Push._ Fjord lays back obediently, scooting up the bed when Caleb gestures for him to, and Caleb settles back on his hips, still perched in Fjord’s lap like a particularly smug cat. Somehow, his smalls are gone; Fjord takes a moment to admire the view.

“When did you take your underwear off?” Fjord asks, and Caleb’s eyes glow with amusement.

“I’m magic, Fjord.”

Helplessly, Fjord laughs, reaching up to squish Caleb’s face gently in his palm. “You’re a smartass.”

“A magic smartass.” Caleb turns his head to kiss at the tips of Fjord’s fingers. “I think maybe you like it a little.”

Fjord’s smile is burning his cheeks. “Maybe a little. If it means you get naked in the blink of an eye.”

The resulting chuckle makes Fjord’s face blaze even hotter. “Thank goodness. I admit I’m not one to striptease.” He nuzzles his nose into Fjord’s hand, closing his eyes and humming. “And you cannot say anything, because you could not striptease with your ridiculous belt, either.”

“Stop being mean to my belt!” Fjord laughs, automatically, puffing up when Caleb looks at him from the corner of one bright blue eye. “Me and my belt could strip just fine. Probably.”

“Hmmm. I will keep that in mind.”

It feels good. Being with Caleb like this feels good, and maybe kinda silly. Caleb is a lot sillier in private, a lot smilier. A lot more inappropriate, too, but in a good way.

Fjord likes how confident Caleb is in his body; it wasn’t something he’d expected, starting out together, but in a lot of ways Caleb being so unselfconscious made some of Fjord’s insecurities fade to the background, too. 

Caleb seemed only ever pleased whenever he got Fjord naked. Which, okay, Fjord knows he’s not exactly the person in the crew that _should_ feel weird about how he looks, with how the group constantly pushes him forward to be the flirt or the face since he’s supposedly the best looking of the gang. It’s enough to make him feel stupid and conflicted when he looks in the mirror and doesn’t like the things he sees.

But it’s different when it’s like this, when it’s intimate, when Caleb is close enough to see every scar, every place where there’s something scrawny instead of something muscular. When Caleb bends to kiss his soft stomach, or runs his hands over his slender ankles, or seems to relish in his hands that are too big for the thin wrists, or purposefully drags his tongue over Fjord’s budding tusks… it’s different.

Fjord feels completely unwrapped in front of him, and here, away from the viewpoint of the outside world, Caleb has never made him feel like he was anything but just the right size.

As it is, Caleb is looking at him now, eyes eating him up, and Fjord flushes under the heated stare.

He’s been with a couple people in his life; the look of desire from someone is nothing new.

But this is Caleb, who’s seen him at his worst, seen him barf up saltwater all over himself, seen him dying on the ground, bleeding out from being too weak, too little. Caleb knew him, knew his temper, his impulsiveness, his mistrust. Knew how long it had taken him to even be comfortable enough with this to let it happen, had stayed and worked through it, had let Fjord stumble around like an idiot before taking his hand when Fjord had finally let himself reach for him.

There was desire from a stranger, and then there was desire from someone who’d stuck beside him when he was anything but desirable.

Getting Fjord’s smallclothes off isn’t the same act of magic. Instead, Caleb lets his fingers slip inside the waistband like a secret. His knuckles rub playfully against the places Fjord most wants them, leaving him flexing his hips into nothing when he begins slipping the fabric down. The fingers trailing along the insides of Fjord’s thighs give him the same tingle of the arcane, anyway. Fjord shivers under his friend’s touch, and Caleb notices, smiles in a way that curls his toes.

“Maybe we skip the striptease,” he says, and it’s so low, so quiet, like the crackle of firewood. “I think I like undressing you myself.”

Fjord huffs a soft shy noise, and puts his hands on Caleb’s sides, tugging him closer. “Only if you let me return the favor.” He nudges their noses together, drops his voice as low as he can make it. “I love getting you naked.”

Caleb’s lips quirk in the way that says he’s privately pleased. Fjord loves making him look like that, loves making sure Caleb knew how attractive he thought he was. How mutual the whole thing was. “Deal.”

There’s a few uncountable moments where Caleb just slowly grinds himself forward and back, up against Fjord’s stomach and then pressing back into his cock, back and forth, deliberate. Any complaints Fjord might’ve had are swallowed up by how intently Caleb is making out with him.

It’s only when Fjord puts his hands on Caleb’s waist and squeezes, pulls him down a little to rub his cockhead more intently up against his entrance, that the wizard jerks, pulling back to pant into his throat.

 _“Scheisse,”_ he breathes, and sits up, looking back over his shoulder and watching. Fjord takes that as permission, pressing his own hips up to rub himself teasingly between his cheeks. Caleb’s eyelashes flutter before he closes his eyes, humming low in his throat. Fascination flutters in Fjord’s breast as red seems to blossom from the wizard’s center and expand outward, the blush growing like a rose across his body and up into his face. Eventually, he starts to pant; precome starts slicking up Fjord’s lower stomach. He begins working his hips harder in Fjord’s hands, but doesn’t move beyond what Fjord lets him. Fjord’s dick slips in the tight space Caleb is giving him, a filthy imitation of the real thing, his own precome slicking the way, making it glide. Caleb’s expression looks… Fjord’s mouth goes dry, watching as bit by bit he starts breathing harder and harder.

 _Fuck._ Caleb was getting off just from this, and Fjord grits his teeth against the load of horny bullshit that is threatening to spill out of him at that realization. Headiness and haze is filling up his mind like smoke. He could get off like this, too, he knows. Come against Caleb’s ass and maybe see it spend across his lower back. _Maybe lick it off,_ the fire in his gut says, _maybe push him into this bed and see where all he likes your mouth._

But then Caleb turns and looks back at him, eyes dark as the depths of the ocean, and pushes up onto his knees. “Do you want to be inside me this time?”

Fjord blinks, hands slackening where they are on Caleb’s waist. “Huh?”

Caleb swallows audibly. “I want you inside me, if you’re amenable.”

Fjord is a lot of things, but hesitant is not one of them. The image of being inside Caleb leaps to his mind and his mouth is open without him even asking for it to be. “Yep! That sounds— that— yep!”

A spark of amusement shows up in the redhead’s expression again, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he takes one of Fjord’s hands, lifts it into view. “I noticed— your claws are duller than they were last time we did this.” He looks right at him, sees the answer before he even asks the questions. “Did you do that so you could work me open yourself?”

Well. There’s a cat out of the bag. Fjord should’ve known better than to think he could be sly about something. Embarrassment warms his face. “I mean… maybe.”

Caleb’s eyes burn. “That is incredibly, ah… You were thinking of me when you did this? Thinking of your fingers…”

Well. All signs point to this being very good. Fjord hadn’t exactly been thinking deliberately about working Caleb open while he’d trimmed his claws — he’d been in public, and his imagination was too good to think about it in any way besides in a normal, removed sort of way, _I should trim these, just in case, for later,_ but Fjord isn’t about to say that to the fire suddenly lit up in Caleb’s expression.

“Yeah,” Fjord says, and Caleb is on him, pinning him back down to the bed and yanking the hand he’s taken captive behind himself. “Shadesbreath—”

Caleb pulls away only after murmuring something that has Fjord’s fingers slick with some kind of oil. Magic remains endlessly fascinating to Fjord, it turns out. “Fjord,” he commands, in the weird kind of pleading way only Caleb seems capable of, and it makes Fjord’s dick twitch even as he reaches back and obeys the wordless demand.

One finger is easy enough, quickly becomes two. Fjord doesn’t have a ton of experience in this part of the whole affair, admittedly, having mostly only done it on himself in a couple of long, very alone, very exploratory nights, but Caleb just braces himself on the bed on either side of Fjord’s shoulders and lets his head droop between them.

“Deeper… good, ah, now just… bend your fing— _ah, fuck—”_ Caleb twitches on his hand, flexes around his digits in a way that has Fjord abruptly sitting up on his elbows. He can feel Caleb fisting the blankets, sees the way his shoulders shake for a moment as he breathes, and suddenly the power of what he’s doing slams over him like a blistering wave.

He curls his fingers again, pushes in and drags them down, and Caleb arches instantly, a punched out _aah_ slipping out of him like it’s involuntary. _“Fjord.”_

Fjord’s blood begins pounding. He can suddenly smell Caleb’s sweat, feel the hot air between them thickening and charging as the somewhat lazy rutting they’d been doing becomes a touch more frantic. He moves his fingers again, watches with amazement as Caleb’s arms begin trembling where they’re holding himself up, as Caleb makes another sweet noise that sets off all of Fjord’s alarms.

“You like that?” _Shut up. Shut up while you’re ahead, oh my god, stop talking._ “Right here, Cay?” He starts rubbing more in earnest, feels his pulse pounding, completely overriding the very careful leash he’d had on all the horny shit he’d been deliberately holding back.

Caleb growls, head snapping up, and one hand lifts from the bed to dig into Fjord’s shoulder instead. Little half-moons are carved into Fjord’s skin as Caleb uses his new position to work himself back on Fjord’s hand like it’s nothing. Caleb locks eyes with him, bright blue behind the firebrand of his hair, and tips his head back. 

_“Yes…_ right there,” he confirms, breathless, and Fjord’s brain short-circuits at the actual response to his dirty talk. _“More,_ Fjord.”

“Yessir,” Fjord chokes out.

Two becomes three. Caleb’s hands both find their way to Fjord’s chest, splaying out and dragging on him with the motion of his hips. Fjord can feel the raised scar tissue of their pact pressing against his skin, can feel the callouses and burns that make these hands irrevocably Caleb’s. Watching him move on top of him is almost voyeuristic, in a weird way. Seeing Caleb like this, knowing he’s one of only a select group that ever had or ever would, makes something possessive in his ribcage thump.

Eventually Caleb is looking at him again, cerulean just a ring around his pupils. “Okay,” he says, and Fjord has always been pretty good at hearing what Caleb’s saying without the words.

He slips his fingers out, loathe as he is to do so, and Caleb exhales shakily. He takes a second, looking down at Fjord’s chest, before beginning to slide his way down Fjord’s body.

“Uh—” says Fjord, and Caleb peers up at him, not slowing his descent until he’s conveniently got Fjord’s cock perked up right next to him.

“Hm?”

Fjord stares down at him, a little confused at the turn the evening had taken. “Uh…”

Caleb cocks a brow, still flushed from Fjord’s ministrations. He turns his head to mouth kisses at the wide shaft just by his jaw, a wet noise shooting like ice up Fjord’s spine. “Uh?” he parrots, his lips flirting with a smile.

 _Hot. Wet. Good._ Fjord collapses back onto his elbows. “Uh,” he exhales, and ignores Caleb’s amused noise only because a second later the head of his dick is getting thoroughly laved over. Caleb’s hand comes up to wrap around him, slick with that magic oil, and gently pushes his dick back so he can lick from the thicker base to the tip. Unhurried, warm. Incredibly intimate; Caleb doesn’t break eye contact as he laps at the small ridges leading up from the underside of Fjord’s cock to the frenulum. His pink tongue looks stark against Fjord’s green skin.

It’s all he can do to not cover his own eyes, embarrassment and lust burning through him in equal measure.

Sex with Caleb is unlike any other sexual experience he’s ever had. Admittedly, he’s not the most experienced fella out there, and what experience he does have has been mostly… hurried occasions. Get in, get it done, part ways. Flash a couple lovebites to prove it’d happened, wince from the ache in your hips until it wore off, tell yourself it was good that anyone had actually wanted you like that at all.

It’s not that the sex has been _bad,_ really. It’d been… fine. Not enough to put him off it, or anything. Just… not like this.

Not like Caleb sucking him off for no real reason. There was no reason to not just use his oil and hop on. It’s what Fjord probably would’ve done.

Instead, Fjord is fisting the sheets and twisting on the bed as Caleb makes a real obscene, loud slurping noise around his cock on the updraw. His long, thin hands press Fjord’s hips into the bed, stroke his hipbones with his thumbs. His eyes close as he dips down low and moans in his throat, lets the vibrations make Fjord yelp and tremble beneath him, sending lightning roaring in his veins and briefly knocking the breath from him.

Gods, it just feels so good. It just feels like Caleb is taking his time to _make_ it feel good. It makes Fjord want to make him feel good, too, just because he can, and damn, he is getting really into his head over this.

The man between his legs pulls off to just kiss at him, balls to base to tip, putting on a show that has Fjord’s chest heaving. He looks salacious, just like those protagonists in his romance novels. Fjord’s tempted to tell him that, just to see the reaction.

Instead, Caleb slips his tongue into the slit of Fjord’s dick and rubs there until Fjord is on the edge of screaming.

 _“Caleb,”_ he pleads, “c’mere. Get up here, sweetheart, you’re killing me.” 

There’s a breath where Caleb stares at him, somehow looking like he’s swallowed his tongue even though Fjord can still see it pressed against him.

Fjord is too fuzzy brained to consider why, just exhales when the wizard pulls back with some reluctance (and wasn’t that something, that Caleb was genuinely enjoying himself) and kisses the head of his dick once more before crawling back up his body.

 _“Ja,_ okay.”

Fjord’s hands find Caleb’s waist again. Caleb flicks an open-mouthed smile his way, gleaming wet teeth and mouth gone flushed from blowing him, and pushes up onto his knees, reaching back to grasp Fjord’s now very-lubricated cock and press it up against himself.

“Go slowly,” he breathes, looking down at Fjord. Fjord feels briefly hysterical, worshipping underneath this scrawny redheaded wizard with his dick in his hand, so turned on he can’t even think straight. “I want to feel all of you.”

“Fuck.” Fjord digs his dull claws into the bony hips under his fingers. “Gods. I wanna feel you, too,” he manages, and Caleb’s smouldering look turns briefly molten before he begins sinking down without preamble.

They both go slow. Fjord controls his breathing and his instincts to thrust in a way he thinks is worthy of some kind of gold reward. Caleb looks so focused it’s almost cute, if it weren’t also incredibly hot, his eyebrows low and his jaw locked. When he finally seats himself all the way, pressing himself onto the swollen base that made up Fjord’s knot, he pants like he just ran a mile, and Fjord can admit that it makes something in his hindbrain rumble with pride.

After giving him a moment to settle, Caleb sinks further into his lap, hands splayed on Fjord’s stomach, and purrs. _Purrs._ There’s not another word for it. He rocks his hips, real slight, undulates like a cat stretching out, and closes his eyes. “Mmm… it feels better than I imagined.”

And that’s just it. Fjord has been doing his best to shut up, but he leans up now, resettles Caleb in his lap, and wraps his arms around him, pressing his face into Caleb’s shoulder. “You feel fucking amazing,” he groans, “gods, you make me feel so good, Caleb. I feel so good.” He jerks his hips up, feels Caleb gasp and claw at his back, and moans again. “You always make me feel so fucking—”

Caleb huffs, leans back just enough to press their mouths together. He cradles Fjord’s head in his hands, thumbs the little golden hoop in Fjord’s ear. “Yes,” he says, pressing a kiss to Fjord’s brow, to his cheek, to his jaw. “I love your voice, _schatz,_ _ahh,”_ and Fjord can feel him neatly cross his ankles behind Fjord’s back.

Fjord swallows and puts a hand on Caleb’s chest, feels his heart thrumming under his palm. “I’ve never had anyone like you,” he grits out, pushing up into him as Caleb rocks in his lap. _“Fuck.”_

Now that Caleb’s basically given him the go-ahead, he can’t think of anything to say that isn’t incredibly embarrassing. Still, with the way Caleb pushes up into Fjord’s hand, the way he looks at him with something so close to tenderness in those white-fire eyes… 

They haven’t discussed a lot of shit. Part of Fjord kind of wonders if this is still some kind of friends with benefits deal; they weren’t really good at the talking-about-feelings thing, and no big romantic confessions of love had managed to find the way out between them before they’d fallen into bed together. Some talk about trust, some talk about boundaries. Some talk about admiration, about wanting, about not feeling alone. About how far they’d come. How Fjord wanted to let this barrier down; how Caleb wanted that, too.

No love confessions, but Fjord doesn’t even know how he’d do that, anyway, no matter what this flame-like, frighteningly fragile thing in his chest is.

But in this moment, Caleb’s expression is soft, malleable. He leans in to kiss Fjord, face still cradled in his hands, and Fjord feels something under his ribcage open with a creak. It feels like Caleb is feeding something in him that’s been starving for a long time, making him more and more ravenous, and still somehow soothing that ache. It makes him want to keep Caleb here, in this moment, and not let him leave. Beg him to keep looking at him like this, keep kissing him like this, keep filling this emptiness until it’s full of the honey-sweet something Caleb is giving him. Promise he can give it back, if Caleb wants that.

Fjord’s impulsive. It’s a running joke, nowadays.

He’s never been poetic, though, and blurting out his feelings without giving them some serious consideration was almost certainly going to end in disaster if he didn’t know exactly what to say.

So he just kisses him back, letting the hand on Caleb’s heart slide down and wrap around his dick. “You look like a dream,” he manages, thumbing the head, and Caleb makes a punched-out noise against his mouth, lets it slide into something needy. “Can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

 _“Fjord,”_ he pants, and Fjord can’t take the charged look on his face, how his eyes look like they’re glowing, instead bending to bite down on the meat of his shoulder. Caleb arches, groans, and drops his head back in what, to Fjord, is a plea. _Mark me up, as much as you want,_ it says.

It’s a lot, it turns out.

Caleb lets him, keeps making hot, hungry noises every time Fjord bites down, panting softly as he starts riding him in earnest. Fjord paws at him, digging his blunt claws in, and before long any semblance of keeping this quiet goes out the window. That’d embarrass him if he was in any position to give a shit.

The bedframe knocks against the wall every time Caleb sinks back down onto him, and Fjord can almost time it with his heartbeat, with the grunts he’s pressing into Caleb’s skin, with every upstroke he’s giving Caleb’s cock.

He’s close. Caleb is, too, beginning to shake in his arms and bending to press smearing kisses to wherever his mouth lands. Fjord returns them as best he can, feeling hot and hazey and sweaty, this close to him. There’s nothing between them, no space. Breaths are shared, Caleb’s hirsute thighs squeezing tight against Fjord’s waist, his hands twisting in his hair and on his shoulders, even the little whispers of Zemnian finding their way to Fjord. It’s not like sex with anyone else, and it’s not even like sex with Caleb has been so far. It’s too fucking personal.

The air feels thick with something more than just the impending orgasm, and Fjord determinedly tries to ignore it.

“I’m close,” he tells him, swallowing. “I’m— we fucking shoulda discussed— I’m gonna knot,” he grits out, exhaling hard through his teeth and preparing himself for the potentiality that Caleb’s not up for that.

He needn’t have worried. Caleb’s eyes gleam. “I know.” He squeezes down on Fjord, tight enough to stutter his movement, make him shiver as he presses their foreheads together. “I want it.”

“Fucking— hot. Okay,” Fjord says, and Caleb grins with all his teeth before a particularly hard thrust has him cursing under his breath. Fjord tries not to think about _I want it, I know._

He slides his free hand down to Caleb’s ass, squeezing at him, and Caleb jerks and gives a breathless, surprised laugh that has him bending to bite at his ear. “Fuck, your hands,” A rasp that tells how chatty he’s been. _“Fass mich das nächste Mal mehr an,”_ and he bends his spine, pushing himself back into Fjord’s palm and then up into the circle of his fist, lashes fluttering and voice raising in pitch, _“Ich werde nie genug von dir bekommen,_ Fjord, harder,” and Fjord’s own thrusts are getting real erratic, looking at Caleb, like a fantasy but better on top of him, and—

And Caleb topples over the edge, Fjord’s name on his mouth, digging his nails into Fjord’s shoulders. He spills over Fjord’s fingers, keeps rocking on Fjord’s dick, squeezing down on him just enough that Fjord’s breath catches and he goes taut as a bowstring and comes tumbling right after him, noiseless but slack-jawed.

Caleb relaxes first, slumping against Fjord, lungs heaving. He shivers as Fjord’s knot swells inside him, and Fjord instinctively wraps his arms around him, pulling him close. He pants, burying his face in the other man’s shoulder as he grinds a little deeper inside, working his hips through his orgasm. Caleb shakes, once, twice, and then groans and goes boneless; Fjord scrambles a bit not to fall back on his elbows in his attempts to catch him.

There’s a breath of silence, and then Caleb is shaking again. Fjord blinks, his hands on Caleb’s back still from the unconscious circles he’d been rubbing.

“You alright?”

The shaking continues, but now Fjord can hear the very soft, almost giddy laughter being pressed against his skin. Caleb straightens up lazily, wrapping his arms around Fjord’s shoulders, and looks at him with the single most pleased expression Fjord’s ever seen on him that didn’t involve a spellbook. “Soooo alright,” Caleb says, and, ridiculously, Fjord feels a flush crawling up his face.

“Um… good. Me, too, I mean.” Caleb’s intensity has softened into something fuzzy around the edges, pink-tinted and sweet. He reaches up and cups Caleb’s cheek, rubs his thumb against the ever-present wrinkles under his eye. Caleb brightens instantly, a smile curling his mouth, and leans into it.

“Good. Very good.” The praise is easy, accompanied by a slow drag of fingers down Fjord’s chest, and it feels like magic is following the trail. With Caleb, it might be.

It still feels strange, knowing he’s allowed to touch as much as he likes. That Caleb wanted it, enjoyed it. These are stupid thoughts to have, with his dick still inside the guy, but in a ridiculous way, this feels way more intimate.

The gentle eyes Caleb is letting him see. The way Caleb reaches up and cups his face in return, leans in and presses their noses together. The smile when Fjord tips his head to place a chaste kiss to his mouth.

Kissing him, in general.

Fjord firmly pushes down the thoughts regarding the ratio of people he’s kissed versus people he’s had sex with, not wanting to ruin his afterglow that quickly. Instead, he shimmies his hips, grinning when Caleb lets out a surprised squawk. “Wanna move and lay down? We’re, uh, gonna have to work together.”

Caleb snickers, shifting experimentally and barking a laugh when Fjord quickly clamps his hands on his waist, feeling a pulse in his knot that makes him gasp. “Sorry! Sorry. Ah, sure, _ja,_ let’s move.”

“Fuckin’... smartass.” Fjord scoots his way up the bed, carefully, and Caleb is grinning in a way that is ridiculously amused as he scoots along with him on his knees. It’s hard not to laugh, now, both of them a little stupid with the post-sex hormones, so they do.

But with teamwork, Caleb is cradled on Fjord’s chest, and they can both finally slide under the blankets of the bed.

Fjord’s hands move unconsciously again, smoothing up and down Caleb’s spine in long, quiet motions. The resulting contented sigh has Fjord’s heart doing a complicated thump in his chest. 

_Fuck. I might be in trouble._

After a moment, Caleb rests his chin on his folded hands and peers up at Fjord, smiling hazily at him.

Fjord blinks back, propped up a little on his pillow. “Hey.”

 _“Hallo,”_ Caleb parrots, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His heart trips over itself.

_Fuck. Fuck. I’m definitely in trouble._

“You know, you don’t have to do this whole… ‘look how cute I am’ thing you’re doing,” Fjord says, trying for cool and unaffected and slightly mortified to hear how smitten it comes out. “You already got me in bed. Mission accomplished.”

Caleb’s smile doesn’t dim, exactly, but it does become harder in a way that makes Fjord’s palms go sweaty. “Maybe my mission is different than what you think.”

 _Oop._ Trying to smooth the situation over — really not great to make your partner’s mood drop when you’re still very much attached by the dick — Fjord reaches down and runs his fingers through Caleb’s messy hair. “‘Kay, I’ll bite. What’s your mission?”

The little smile Caleb gives him shows his canines. There’s something in his face, though, something guarded, that makes Fjord remember who he’s talking to. Who he’s in bed with. “That is for me to know and you to find out, big guy.”

A mask, but a thin one. Fjord wonders if Caleb is thinking the same things he is. He thinks he can see the cracks in the plaster, if he looks. He wonders if Caleb can see the ones Fjord doesn’t have the energy to hide from him anymore.

Fjord swallows, drags his thumb over Caleb’s eyebrow. “... Color me intrigued.”

Caleb’s hard edges soften again, just a touch. He puffs, and dips his head to kiss the center of Fjord’s chest. _“Ja,_ I’m an intriguing guy.”

“Don’t I know it.”

When the knot eventually swells down, Caleb pulls himself off, and they share a mutual grimace at the vaguely uncomfortable feeling. When Caleb makes to get up, though, Fjord puts a hand on his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed and climbing out himself. He finds his shirt, comes back.

“Here, lemme clean up.”

Caleb hesitates, blinking at him, but before Fjord can consider why, he splays his arms over his head and stretches out. “I suppose. It _was_ you who did this to me.” There’s a smirk tucked in the corner of his mouth, and Fjord glows with the reminder that Caleb only looks so debauched because of him.

“That it was.” He wipes the pair of them down, determinedly not making eye contact when he feels his companion looking at him. The tension in the room has not totally rescinded with finishing and coming down, like normal, and something about that makes Fjord’s pulse run fast and nervous in his throat.

He can’t look at Caleb, right now. Can’t see whatever it is that’s gonna be in his eyes. He’s too smart; he might see it reflected right back.

Fjord doesn’t know how to handle that. It’s safer, easier, to pretend they both don’t know what this is turning into.

If they don’t talk about it, maybe it can just keep being like this.

He thumps down on the bed, bouncing them both a little, and feels a weird sense of relief when Caleb immediately snuggles back up. The other man spoons himself back against Fjord, reaches back to determinedly pull Fjord’s arms around himself, and sighs, relaxing against the bed.

Fjord stares at the nape of his neck, and tells himself not to think about anything. Usually, it works. _Go to sleep. You can unpack all this shit tomorrow._

After a moment, though, Caleb shifts against him. Laces his fingers between Fjord’s. Takes a breath like he’s prepping for something. “You know you called me ‘sweetheart’, this time.”

 _Shit._ Fjord feels his jaw clench tight. His words are locked behind his teeth, caught there, and it takes all his effort to pry them apart, to say something that isn’t a croak. Even then, it’s only because Caleb isn’t facing him. “You call me _schatz.”_ It comes out more accusatory than he means.

Caleb is still in his arms, just breathing. He tips his head further away, pushes it into the pillow. _“... Ja,_ I do.”

Fjord closes his eyes. “... Do you mind? Did you… not like it?”

“... I don’t mind.” Another pause. “I liked it. Very much.”

Relief floods into him fast enough that it’s nearly breathtaking. He doesn’t think about that, either. Fjord wraps his arms a little tighter around him, pulls him a little closer. “Good. Okay.”

“... Okay.” Caleb runs his hand up and down Fjord’s, quiet, unobtrusive. “Sleep well, Fjord.”

Abruptly, he feels like an idiot. He hates the weird distance suddenly there, the way he’s fucking it up after such a good time together. Defensive and aggressive.

_Stop._

Fjord squeezes Caleb a little more, enough that he grunts, and buries his face in his shoulder. Breathes in the smell of sex and the smell of books and ash and trust. “You too, sweetheart.”

Caleb stiffens, for just a moment.

There’s a breathless second of fear, of the idea that he really has misconstrued this entire thing, if it wasn’t allowed outside of the moment.

But then Caleb breathes out, low and slow, and twines their fingers together under the blankets. _“Ich bin in Schwierigkeiten,”_ he mutters, and brings their hands up to press a kiss to the back of Fjord’s.

Fjord doesn’t speak Zemnian, but he can’t help but wholeheartedly agree.

**Author's Note:**

> Fjord sleeps over and wakes up to find Caleb laying in bed finishing his book, cradling Fjord to his chest and playing with his hair. They still don't talk about it, but when have they ever.
> 
> \--  
> "Guten Abend" -- Good evening  
> "Herrlich" -- Gorgeous / Glorious  
> "Fass mich das nächste Mal mehr an." -- Next time, touch me more.  
> "Ich werde nie genug von dir bekommen" -- I'll never get enough of you.  
> "Ich bin in Schwierigkeiten" -- I'm in trouble.
> 
> I left the timing of this fic deliberately ambiguous bc otherwise I'll lose my mind skjdhj
> 
> FJORD'LL GET BETTER AT DIRTY TALK he doesn't have a lot of experience ok. Also Fjord's knot doesn't activate unless he's actually inside someone so that way he can get handjobs and blowjobs without worrying about it... because... I said so. Orc anatomy bows to my will.
> 
> Caleb is more confident in his dirty talk / taking control of the situation but if I write smut of them again, Fjord's gonna have gained some confidence.
> 
> i tried to incorporate both intimacy AND insecurity into this fic and may have made it bad that way BUT
> 
> i hope you liked it! i don't write a lot of smut bc i don't know if it's any good when i'm such a wordy son of a bitch but skdhsjdk have some feelings
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/leomundstinyhut) and [tumblr!](https://leomundstinyhut.tumblr.com)


End file.
